ross the
lake.

"I wonder why it is, that, when we feel deepest, a disposition to
silence always holds the senses in thralldom. I did not speak half a
dozen words, as our boat sped like a bird across the lake; and yet my
heart was full of happiness, for Harrington had his dark eyes fixed
with a sort of dreamy earnestness on my face all the time. A
consciousness so strange, and almost delirious, seized upon me, that I
could neither look up nor speak, but bowed my head over the blossoms in
my lap, whispering to them what had never been uttered in words, and
never perhaps, may be.

"While we sat thus in mute happiness, with nothing but the ripple of the
boat to break the exquisite joy of our silence, the oriole began to sing
again, and his mate answered back the song from across the lake. I
looked up, and met his eyes: a flush came to his forehead, and I felt
the warm blood burning over my cheeks and forehead. His lips parted, and
for one instant he took my hand, but only to drop it among the cold
water-lilies again, as if some distressing thought had aroused him to
painful consciousness. Why was this? how came it that he relinquished my
hand so abruptly? Was he shocked with my upward glances--did he think my
recognition of his thoughts unmaidenly?

"The orioles ceased to sing just then, and a sullen cloud came sweeping
over us, which broke upon the pond in a sudden squall of wind. Before
the old man could reef his sail, it gave way, and fluttered out, like
the wounded wing of a bird, bearing our boat with it. The first plunge
cast me forward at Harrington's feet; he caught me to his bosom,
pressing me there with one arm, while he drew in the sail with the
other.

"The wind rose high, tearing in a tornado across the pond; but, I am
sure--sure as I am of the beating of my own heart, that Harrington
trembled from other causes than the danger we were in. Twice he bent his
lips to my face, but checked himself with murmurs which the cruel wind
carried from me.

"I do not know how we reached the shore, or why it was that we walked in
such profound silence homeward--but this I do know, another hour like
that would have broken my heart with its wealth of happiness.

"I could not sleep last night, but lay quietly, with my hands folded
softly over my bosom as had been a childish habit, thinking over that
sail upon the lotus pond. The moonbeams stole into my room, penetrating
the roses that hung around the casement, and bring